


In the Pauper's Court

by ingridmatthews



Category: Nicholas Nickleby - Dickens
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingridmatthews/pseuds/ingridmatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is she like you?" inquired Smike</p><p>"Why, so they say," replied Nicholas, laughing, "only a great dead handsomer."</p><p>"She must be *very* beautiful," said Smike, after thinking a little while with his hands folded together, and his eyes bent upon his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Pauper's Court

_"Is she like you?" inquired Smike_

_"Why, so they say," replied Nicholas, laughing, "only a great dead handsomer."_

_"She must be *very* beautiful," said Smike, after thinking a little while with his hands folded together, and his eyes bent upon his friend._

_"Anybody who didn't know you as well as I do, my dear fellow, would say you were an accomplished courtier," said Nicholas._

~*~

Courtier. It was a large, complicated word. Smike had no idea what it meant but if Nicholas said it, it must be a fine word with a very fine meaning.

He thought about it for a little while as he did, then redid, the bed linens that graced the small bed he and Nicholas shared.

At ... that place ... the place Nicholas rescued him from ... they weren't very fussy about such things (if there were any bed linens to be had, which wasn't the case more often than not) but he wanted to make everything as nice as possible in this tiny home they lived in.

Nicholas commented repeatedly on how "terribly small" the apartment was, but to Smike, it was as good as any palace because it was _theirs_.

Like every palace, theirs had a king and that was Nicholas. Smike was more than content to be his servant, except that Nicholas never let him do all the things Smike dreamt of doing, day and night, just to please him.

Even the smallest offices of servitude were denied by Nicholas who was always telling Smike to rest or to eat or to come and view the ocean with him on the days he wasn't working.

They'd walk arm and arm together along the Portsmouth shore with Nicholas pointing out things to amuse him and laughing at what must have been a most dumbstuck expression on Smike's part, assuming the beauty of the waves was the thing entrancing him most.

Little did he know that it was Nicholas' beauty that made Smike wonder in amazement, day after day, moment after moment.

He'd never ... ever ... seen anyone as lovely, as perfect, as Nicholas. Just the thought of him was enough to make Smike's chest clench in a most alarming manner and he'd been forced to turn away more than once lest anyone see the heated blush that filled his face, sometimes at the mere mention of Nicholas' name.

Occasionally, when he was left alone, he'd run his finger along Nicholas' writings, thinking _"his hand has touched this"_ and the thought was so pleasant, he did it again and again, until once the ink smeared and Smike was forced to confess it was his fault the page was ruined.

Smike thought he would die of misery and shame, but Nicholas, seeing Smike's distress, only embraced him and kissed his cheek, calling him a "foolish fellow" for worrying about such trivial things.

He hurriedly rewrote it on fresh paper and showed it to Smike. "See? Everything's fine now. To be honest, dear Smike, it's a good thing I redid it. I caught at least a dozen errors on the first copy, so I thank you for being such a great help to me."

That was his kindness again, the kindness Nicholas always showed Smike. Once alone, Smike couldn't help but put his fingers to the place where Nicholas had kissed him and perhaps it was his imagination, but it was still warm, still fragrant, reminding him of the person he loved the most, the one who might love him back ... perhaps a little bit.

He had to think this way, for the thought that Nicholas might love Smike as much as he loved Nicholas was far too overwhelming.

There was no performance in the theatre that night. Mr. Crummles decided the company needed a night off and commented on "the building of some anticipation" among those who hadn't yet seen Nicholas' play. It was all rather confusing, but Smike didn't mind an evening off from performing.

It was frightening going out on the stage, trying to recite his few lines at precisely the right moment and if not for Nicholas standing in the wings even when he didn't have to be there, nodding and smiling, taking so many pains with him (as if, Miss Snevellicci said, he were coining gold by it), Smike was quite sure he would have failed miserably.

But he was successful on the stage, more so than he ever dreamed of being in any profession. He had nothing before Nicholas, nothing but pain and hopelessness and now ...

"You seem very lost in thought tonight, Smike."

Nicholas' voice made him jump a little and Smile returned to straightening the blankets out, which were already perfectly smooth. "I'm not thinking. Not really." He hesitated, the warm blood filling his cheeks. "Not much."

Nicholas laughed heartily. "You try to hide yourself from me. I can see it, it's no use. Tell me, dear friend, what occupies you so? Is there some new wonder you've seen today you wish to share? Tell me, for I wish to hear all about it."

Smike shook his head slowly. "No new wonders. Just the same wonders as always." He didn't say that same wonder -- the only wonder -- was Nicholas, but his scarlet cheeks might as well have given him away. "Ev ... everything is a wonder to me now -- thanks to you."

A curious look came over Nicholas' face. Reaching out he tilted Smike's chin upward, until their eyes met. "Dear fellow," said Nicholas quietly. "How you lighten my heart. If not for you, I fear I should be overcome with this trying existence."

How kind he was and how Smike loved him and if only he could ...

"If not for you, I should be dead," Smike replied passionately and before he realized what he was doing, his lips were against Nicholas' kissing him clumsily. His mouth tasted sweet, sweeter than anything Smike had ever tasted and it would be almost worth it to be abandoned for this single moment of pure joy.

Or so he thought until he forced himself to pull away, too horrified to speak. Now he'd truly ruined everything, he thought, trembling with misery.

But Nicholas, God bless him forever, said no cruel words, didn't push him away, but instead embraced him closely and Smike closed his eyes against the warmth of Nicholas' breast. Slender fingers combed through Smike's unruly hair, calming his pounding heart.

"You are a wonder to me as well, my friend," Nicholas whispered, his lips pressed to Smike's forehead, his breath like a warm breeze from Eden. "And together, we shall do well indeed."

~*~

fin


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